


Something to Run by You

by deinvati



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Crossdressing, Forging (Inception), M/M, Prompt Fic, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 17:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19728754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinvati/pseuds/deinvati
Summary: Eames is working on a new forge and Arthur agrees to help, just this once.





	Something to Run by You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkSilverWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSilverWings/gifts).



> This is what happens when you can't sleep and people on the other side of the world are trying to "help." 
> 
> GlassPunk: You should write something! But on your phone with the brightness turned down.  
> Me: Okay, but what?  
> GlassPunk: Nail polish? Or earrings, you can pick. Okay! Don't stay up all night!  
> Me: Hahahaha... ha... ha. Fuck.
> 
> (Insert picture of me hunched over my dim phone tapping furiously.)

"Why do you need me to help you again?" Arthur asked, dubious.

"It goes faster if I can bounce the ideas off someone," Eames said with a hand wave. "Besides. You weren't busy."

Arthur bristled. "The hell I wasn't; I've got 25 years of—"

But Eames was winking at him with a grin and Arthur scowled to cover his face heating.

"Come on, darling, it's one run for you and loads less work for me."

Arthur sighed even though he was curious. "Fine. What do you need?"

Eames clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Right then. First things first." Eames sat down at a vanity mirror which hadn't been there a moment before and adjusted the mirrors just so. "This forge is an original, so I have to build it a piece at a time. Your job is to help me get into character."

"Okay…" Arthur said. "And how do I do that exactly?"

"The forge is multi-layered," Eames explained, looking at him in the mirror, "meaning I can't just pick what she looks like. I need to know how she moves, what her favorite movie is, how she reacts under pressure, where she goes on her days off, what she's like in bed. You get the idea."

"Okay…" Arthur said again. "And how do I—"

"You ask me questions and give me ideas," Eames interrupted. "You grill me on the specifics and I make it up as I go. But the trick is, I have to remember it and add it into my appearance."

"Huh. You really do all this for a forge?"

"Arthur. I'm the best."

He flushed because he knew Eames was right, and it was exactly why he worked with him as often as he could. Well. That and other reasons.

"Okay. So I just ask you questions."

"Indeed. Start small and we'll work our way up to big things."

"Right," Arthur said, sounding surer than he felt. "Okay, what's your name?"

Eames made a horrified noise. "Arthur! You can't just _ask_ that! That's a _huge_ question! We're meant to be starting small, remember?!"

"Okay! Sorry!" Arthur flushed even though he wasn't completely sure Eames wasn't teasing him. "Um. How old are you? Is that a good one?"

"Hmm." Eames turned back to the mirror. "It'll do."

Before his eyes, Eames began to shift. He still looked like Eames, but there were subtle differences. The crow's feet and laugh lines Arthur had studied from the corner of his eye for years disappeared. He seemed slimmer in the face, more youthful, more relaxed.

"Wow."

"Thank you," he said lightly. "Next?"

Arthur hesitated. "Um. Why do you still look like a man?"

"Excellent question, Arthur. Because I still feel like a man. What kinds of things make me feel like a woman? Ask me those."

"What? I don't—"

"What do I do when I'm feeling feminine? Nail polish? Or earrings, you can pick."

"Um. Both?"

"High maintenance girl, huh? I like her." He turned back to the mirrors.

"No, wait," Arthur said. "Not… not high maintenance. Usually, you're down to earth. Athletic. But you like to get dressed up for special occasions."

Eames raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror, but it was an approving glance. He nodded. "What else?"

Arthur felt his lips twitch. "Uh. You played softball in high school but you messed up your knee. So you lost your scholarship."

Eames' eyes lit up. "I bet my foot drags when I'm tired. And I can tell when it's going to rain."

"Yeah," Arthur said, warming to this. "You like rock music and going to concerts. You collect the t-shirts from the shows. "

"Slight hearing loss," Eames murmured. He wasn't looking at Arthur anymore. He was concentrating.

"And you are pretty self-contained around new people. But more outgoing with your friends."

Arthur stopped staring at the back of Eames' head and looked at his feet. He wasn't listening anymore anyway, but Arthur kept talking.

"You like action movies. Or fantasy. And you're adventurous in bed," he said, voice quieter. Eames didn't react. "But you don't like your partner to ask you about trying new things. You'll stop them if you're not comfortable."

Arthur scratched his lip with his teeth. He wasn't sure when this started to become about him. "You take a long time to get to know people. Actually, it takes a long time to get to know you. But that doesn't mean you don't want people to."

Arthur swallowed, knowing Eames could hear him but was staying perfectly still. "In fact," he said, "there's one person in particular you want to get to know you better. But you're not really sure how you go about doing that. So you might find some really," he huffed a laugh at himself, "really dumb way to tell them."

He risked a glance up at Eames, but sitting in his chair at the vanity was a lithe, brunette woman with serious eyes staring at him in the mirror. She wore a long, slinky black dress, her hair coiffed perfectly over one shoulder. Earrings _and_ nail polish, Arthur noticed.

Eames turned to look at him and rose, a perfect saunter in heels which made him just a little taller than Arthur.

"Arthur," Eames said, his voice thick, and it was a little disconcerting hearing Eames' voice from this woman's mouth, but it was also a relief.

His mouth was right there, and Arthur couldn't stop looking at it, and when he took a breath to ask Eames… something, anything, Eames leaned forward and kissed him.

A bolt of lightning hit Arthur as Eames' lower lip slipped between his, and his hands found Eames' waist, holding on for dear life.

Eames kissed him wildly, thoroughly, hands in his hair, and when they broke apart, Arthur noticed his lipstick had smeared and his pupils were blown. It was a damn good look on him.

"Eames," Arthur said, out of breath. "God. What—"

"Did you mean it?"

Arthur swallowed. "Yes."

"Good." Eames moved to kiss him again but Arthur made a sound of protest.

"Could…" he hesitated. "Could you maybe just look like you again first?"

A perfectly plucked brow arched. "Really? You don't like women?"

"I do, but I like you more."

Eames' laugh was loud and familiar and he shook off the forge like droplets of water. "Better?"

Arthur couldn't help but stare now that he had permission. "God, yes."

Eames cupped the back of his neck and Arthur grinned into the kiss. After a beat, he pulled back and raised a wicked eyebrow.

"Any chance you could keep the outfit though?"


End file.
